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March 8, 2009
On this boulevarde, with a thousand homes! A man once lived, and still lives all alone. In his still stoned tomb, he lies a pile of barren bones, until the reanimater, comes and wakes him up to cater, living tissue to those who need it, all the corpses that keep on bleeding, I don't know what, I don't know why, I don't know where, but this is my sky. What do I care, if you see it too, but it just so happens I saw it first, and it might cure my bloody first, to leap anew, the avenue, of cold brown bones frown, listen, crash, glisten, stash, your memories here, safely.